She Doesn't Want To Be Forgiven
by Xekstrin
Summary: ...But being trusted soothes her. She gives Emily her murdered husband's wedding ring so that her sins aren't forgotten. She doesn't want them to be forgotten. [Widow/Tracer/Emily, suggestive but not explicit]


When Lena came home and found the note, the world dropped out beneath her feet. She felt unreal again, the constant tugging of the slipstream threatening to pull her under. Then she read it again, recognized the handwriting, and crumpled the note into a shaking fist.

"Those idiots are going to give me a heart attack."

Finding them wasn't easy. That was the point. Not out of any sense of playful cat-and-mouse, but from a very real desire to remain undiscovered. She worked backwards, trying to figure out where they might have vanished.

Lena knew that her girlfriend wouldn't settle for anything less than a real bed. But that didn't narrow it down much. Searching hotels didn't turn up anything, and Lena didn't want to risk using her credentials to demand a more thorough scouring. If she tapped into her Overwatch resources, it would leave a trail. It would need explaining. The less lies she had to tell, the easier this was.

Not that anything about this was easy.

In the end she found them in a rented townhouse, in a well-lit neighborhood that would almost certainly riot if they knew what lurked behind the locked door.

She knocked on the door, hard. Beat it, really. And she didn't let up until Amélie opened it wide.

Lena scanned her in an instant, not missing the kiss stains on the collar of her half-buttoned shirt. Other than that, Amélie remained unremarkable and unrumpled, and didn't seem surprised to see Lena. Crossing her legs at the ankles, she leaned against the open frame while still blocking entry, one hand on the door handle, her arm acting like a velvet rope.

"Where is she?" Lena demanded.

"Safe." Lena always felt very small when Amélie looked at her like that, unblinking like a hawk. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."

Amélie did not touch her. Ever. Not without explicit invitation and permission. But she often pushed the envelope, stepping forward until any idle breath might close the distance. Lena refused to retreat, even if maintaining eye contact forced her to bare her throat.

 _Why does this bitch still wear heels when she's already so tall,_ Lena thought angrily, not for the first time. "You scared me half to death. I thought somebody'd kidnapped her."

"Somebody did." Amélie let her arms drop, waving Lena inside.

The walk upstairs took forever. She was too aware of her own body, and the slipstream, of course. It never left, never stopped rushing past her like a cold river. Every step was leaden, and her harness was too tight, and sweat prickled on the back of her neck and Amélie was right behind her, always just a little too close.

When she saw Emily it knocked her breathless. Rooted to the spot, she let Amélie pass her to join their girlfriend on the bed. She sat gently on the edge of the mattress, one palm on Emily's hitching stomach. Emily had to trust it was her because she was blindfolded, and no sweet nothing could reassure her with the earplugs in.

A silver ring swung like a pendulum, glittering from a chain held in Emily's clenched fist. Like everything Amélie did it was a mix of heartwarming and soberingly distressful. It was passive aggressive. It was a threat, a warning to run away now.

What promise could Amélie make that she hadn't already broken with someone else?

Nothing. She had nothing to give them.

Still, they loved her. It drove Amélie crazy, but they loved her.

The only illumination in the room came from a dozen candles, unscented. They made everything warm and bathed in mellow shadows, reflected harshly on the streaks of sweat down Emily's naked form.

Amélie checked the restraints with a finger, smoothing a palm down Emily's thighs to open them wider. Lashed ankle to thigh, with red ropes crisscrossing over her chest and her arms tied to the bedposts, Emily was left open to be taken.

"Cherie." Amélie's voice pulled Lena from her reverie. She blinked a few times as Amélie gently worked the bit from Emily's mouth, a line of saliva stretching from lips to rubber. "My love. I have a gift for you."

Emily still couldn't hear her. She protested weakly, slurred. "Don't stop. Please don't. I didn't drop it. I'm still holding it, I'm being good."

The wedding ring slid on the length of chain, silver shivering on gold.

Laughing under her breath, Amélie removed the earplugs. "You are. You're being so good, and I'm rewarding you."

Then Amélie looked to Lena. It sent a shot of adrenaline through her system, the smoldering expectation.

Peeling off her gloves with shaking hands, Lena stepped closer.


End file.
